


everything is beautiful (all i see is you)

by whisperedwords



Series: YingYang!verse [8]
Category: National Football League RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 05:56:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13541157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperedwords/pseuds/whisperedwords
Summary: But it’s so easy. Loving Odell issoeasy that sometimes Eli wonders how he practically gets paid to do it, makes a living off of just loving this man who he’d been almost fated to be with. If there’s one thing about himself that he considers lucky, football debates aside, it’s that—it’s absolutely, 100% that.





	everything is beautiful (all i see is you)

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't know what this is. I was feeling soft and needed 2 write about these two again, but it feels pretty messy so I may delete, edit, and repost eventually. (Also, y'all should FULLY expect a follow-up from OBJ's pov. If u think Eli loves Odell....hoo boy. Wait until u hear what Odell has to say about Eli.) title from justin timberlake's [tunnel vision](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ctrBOo1IZ3c).
> 
>  
> 
> [check out the library for more of these two.](https://eoverse.tumblr.com/)

It’s become a joke, he knows—Eli Manning’s reliance on Odell Beckham Jr. has turned into a punchline, a mutation of the conceptual “fuck it” that’s garnered so many Facebook shares from people he knows that he’s figured out how to mute half his friends list.

(”Hey, O. Help me out with something?”

“Anything, baby,” Odell had replied, his voice all soft around the edges, smooth like velvet the way that Eli loves. He’d shaken his head, pushed aside the wave of attraction he had felt crashing over him.

“How can I get this shitty joke off my Facebook page?”

A little crinkle had formed between his eyebrows, the way it always does when he’s focusing really hard on something. Then it smoothed out, and Eli received a beaming smile in return as Odell plopped down next to him on the bed. “Here. There’s a ‘ _mute’_  option somewhere…”)

It’s a joke, but it’s also the truth—though on a level that most other people really don’t know about. In a way it kind of scares him, how important Odell has become in his life in what feels like no time at all. An essential piece. For an aging quarterback in a league rapidly developing in the complete opposite direction to find an anchor is unheard of, let alone said anchor being someone he’s had almost a decade of personal history with. Again—if he thinks too hard, if he has one too many, it scares him a little.

But it’s so easy. Loving Odell is  _so_ easy that sometimes Eli wonders how he practically gets paid to do it, makes a living off of just loving this man who he’d been almost  _fated_  to be with. If there’s one thing about himself that he considers lucky, football debates aside, it’s that—it’s absolutely, 100% that.

The thing is, if he  _really_ thinks about it, what he has with Odell Beckham Jr. is more than love. The first layer of it, the surface, is about football, of course, because when is it not? Almost ten years ago he’d first met Odell back at his— _their_ —old high school, thrown passes with him when he was sixteen because he’d made some promise to the principal months before, and  _that_ , that’s when it started. Throwing to him felt effortless, and that stood out because he’d been struggling to have steady chemistry with  _any_  of his receivers that season and they were all  _adult men_. Eli had pulled him aside afterwards, gave him a fist-bump, told him he looked forward to seeing him play in the league because honestly, the thought of someone as talented as him at such a young age being undrafted felt ridiculous to even consider.

And then, five years later, his own team had been the one to do that honor. And suddenly, that chemistry re-appeared like it had been only yesterday they’d thrown together. Eli had made sure to text him something congratulatory and quiet on draft night, a _welcome to Big Blue_ of sorts, and almost immediately afterwards had come a string of partially-comprehensible emojis and a _thanks man, cant wait 2 see you_ as if they were old friends—or, if Eli thinks about it—like lovers reuniting after a trip apart. And from then on, things had just…clicked into place. Odell had been quick to pick up concepts and routes, and could run them _well_ unlike rookies past.

And he’d only grown from there. And then a year later, he’d kissed Eli one warm October night, too excited to contain himself in a season not really worth being excited over, and that was it. That was it for him. He’d completely fallen head over heels and nothing had changed at all. And, really, nothing had—being in love with Odell was easy from the moment it happened, save a few road blocks here and there. He still played the same: still could throw a pass, still was able to read a defense like the back of his hand, still could score a touchdown. But there was an added level of security, now. (If Eli were poetic, something he would never try to claim in his life, he would say that throwing to Odell felt a little like throwing his own heart from his chest and watching as he caught it, again and again; a familiar route, one run straight from his chest and into the arms of the man he trusts most on that field. But he’s not, and he wouldn’t say that. Definitely not.)

And god, there’s so much to love about that security, about that reliable comfort that he’s now almost too accustomed to having. On the field, of course, that consistency is unmatchable, and he’s quietly grateful that he’ll never have to play without Odell being there, too. But off the field as well—just being able to sink back into his couch, onto the hotel room bed, even in the game bus, and having him sidle up close soon after, it’s Eli’s favorite thing. Sometimes they’ll be talking about the game and Odell will just _radiate_ energy, excitement, passion in the best ways, and Eli wonders how anyone could ever want anything else. And sometimes, they’ll be recovering _from_ the game, and Odell’s head will get heavy on Eli’s shoulder as he quietly snores, a little bit of drool spilling from the corner of his mouth, and Eli wonders the same thing—how could anyone ever want _anything_ else than this?

In his wandering thoughts, Eli absentmindedly looks down to his lap, where Odell’s head is propped up against his thighs. He’s got a dreamy smile on his face, lids heavy but still open as Eli plays with his hair. (It’s an unconscious thing he’s started to do—something that, from the soft noises of approval from below, seems to be a good thing.) Almost as if he can read Eli’s mind—and to be honest, it’s pretty likely at this point—Odell tilts his head up a little, still sleepy but aware, and he reaches up to pull Eli’s hand down to his lips.

“Hey,” Eli murmurs, smile widening when O kisses the tips of his fingers slowly. “Tired?”

“Nnnnn,” he replies halfheartedly, pulling Eli’s hand down so that he can nuzzle his face into his wrist. Eli chuckles. “Wh’ makes you say that?”

“Oh, y’know. Just a feeling.” He runs his other hand through Odell’s hair again, makes sure to lightly rake his nails against his scalp. With a soft moan, O shifts so that he’s a little closer to Eli. “Go ahead, honey,” he continues, softer and less teasing as he presses his palm flat to the top of his head, “’s okay. Sleep a little.”

His heart lodges itself in his throat as he watches Odell close his eyes, smile, and then drift off into sleep effortlessly. _Ridiculous_ , Eli thinks to himself. _You’re so in love with him it’s ridiculous_. And it is. It absolutely is. All his years playing football, just being an _adult_ , there’s never been one person to take his breath away in quite this way.

He’s beautiful like this. Eli’s always been one to evade sleep, and in his moments of insomnia, he finds himself drawn to his boyfriend’s features. ( _Boyfriend_. It still feels so naïve, so childish to say, but that’s—that’s who Odell is to him. Boyfriend. Partner. Love of his life. It sends a shiver down his spine every time.) And though it’s not even close to evening, he’s got the privilege of being the observer yet again. In sleep, Odell looks impossibly younger; sometimes that thought makes Eli feel uneasy, how much older he is, how terrifying it is to think about how long they’ve known each other—but he quiets down. Stops thinking about it. (He’s learning how to stop worrying about it—he’s gotten told many times that it’s okay, that he’s okay, that they’re okay. He just needs to keep reminding himself.) Odell huffs a soft breath in his sleep and Eli’s gaze is drawn back to his face, to the curve of his lips and the way they shine in the light of the living room. If he’s being honest, it’s so easy to be in love with him that he doesn’t know why he worries about anything.

And the best part about him? Better than the football skill, better than the handsome smile and soft hands and warm voice, better than the way he’s so in-tune with everything Eli could even think of? The best part is how good he is: how truly, _purely_ good his heart is despite the bitterness of their careers being so strong. There isn’t a bad bone in his body and _that_ is why he’s so in love. Like he’d thought of before—even in seasons, in games, on days where there isn’t anything to feel good or excited about—there he is, smile big, heart bigger, ready to give his all on a moment’s notice. His chest tightens at the thought and, with a quiet exhale, he leans down to press his lips against Odell’s forehead. _So_ full of love. The feeling curls in his stomach as Odell shifts again on his lap, a quiet hum of pleasure spilling from his lips as he dreams.

Eli would do anything to protect him, to keep him from losing that goodness. All he wants is for Odell to be able to feel like this always, reality be damned. Especially after this past year? It’s really the only thing that Eli wants.

He looks back down at Odell’s sleeping form. Gently, so as not to wake him, Eli reaches over and slips his hand into O’s, allowing his fingers to half-lock between Odell’s like they do. (It’s a perfect fit. Eli tries to force down the rush of affection that overcomes him, seeing this—it doesn’t work. The smile on his face feels huge.) Eli’s thumb brushes against his knuckles.

“I love you,” he murmurs. There aren’t really words that can say it better.

**Author's Note:**

> (WELCOME BACK, UNLOCKED FICS! it's 2018 and i feel no shame anymore. they're in love. yall here on ao3 are just gonna have to fuckin deal with it. thank u for coming to my ted talk.)


End file.
